Damage, Inc
by Carpe Diem Baby
Summary: Dante and Nero have been in the demon-hunting business together for a while now. But a problem strikes Devil May Cry that not even those two can handle...rats.


**Disclaimer:** All canon characters & the rest of Devil May Cry are owned by Capcom & "Damage, Inc." is credit to Metallica—I own nothing here other than the plot.

**A/N:** Just a somewhat-but-not-really goofy one-shot inspired by Metallica's 1986 track "Damage, Inc." I wrote this solely to get back into writing, and then when I realized it was unfinished, I quickly patched it up. That's pretty much all. Enjoy!

**Damage Incorporated**

"You know, you're one hell of an idiot." Dante informed Nero. They were walking casually beside each other, sharing and exchanging remotely no friendly interaction, or even a mere glance. Nero knew Dante was upset with him for knocking one of his guns in a river. Nero argued that it was hardly a nice gun, for one the appearance was of a "motherfucking disintegrated jackal", and it barely spat out a bullet that could harm a demon, let alone a human. Still, Dante claimed Nero was a "motherfucking half-assed jackass" with no sense of responsibility. Nero had been lucky, if he had lost Ebony or Ivory, all of hell would have broke loose.

"Ah, shut up."

"Why don't you kid? Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"

"Not when they're old farts."

"Fuck you, kid. Fuck you very much."

Dante stopped in front of the bulky doors of Devil May Cry, turning his head Nero's direction and giving him a dirty look. A hell of a glare it was. He was now merely cranky and had forgotten about the gun; angry only for the sake of being angry. Nero was the unlucky victim, but at least he thought Dante had a reason to be so grouchy, since Dante was so good at hiding his true intentions. Before opening the doors, Dante grunted and shook his head at the business partner beside him, where Nero would then only respond with an uncomfortable and, nearly fearful stare.

And as they stepped in both Dante and Nero forgot about their previous complaints and merely stared at what was—or better said, used to be—Devil May Cry. The two stared, hardly anything running through their heads other than what was before them. Same couches, same table, same jukebox, same pool table. So why did they look like this? Why were they so suddenly torn and broken? What damaged them? Why? What the _fuck_?

Finally, after a moment's more of mere surprise, Nero smirked. "I thought this place was under like, some demon control repellent spell."

"You really are a hell of an idiot. Why the hell would a demon jack up my place without trying to get to me? It wouldn't." Dante snorted.

"Because they're clever," Nero sneered. "They were smart enough to consider your financial issues—"

"Finish that sentence, and you'll look like that couch over there." Dante threatened, gesturing to the couch with his head as he stepped in. Nero walked in after him, taking a look at the couch. It had always been somewhat battered, but as of now: completely torn. He had wondered why the "demons" had made such small teeth mark looking incisions on the seat, but when he heard tiny little feet scramble from under the couch and a near-mute squeak, he'd realized this was no demon. (And if it was, one hell of a peculiar demon it would be).

"Did you hear that?" Dante asked, looking around. Up, as if the problem were afloat in the air.

"Yeah I—"

"Shhh!"

_Why the hell would he ask me a question and tell me to shut up as I answer? _

But there it had been again: the squeak.

"Nero…?"

Nero said nothing.

"Nero!"

"What? I don't know whether or not I should answer or—"

"Shut up." Dante interrupted. _I rest my case,_ Nero thought bitterly as Dante continued to speak: "I don't think we have a demon problem."

Statement of the obvious. "No shit, Sherlock." Was all Nero managed to respond with. After Dante glowered at his somewhat-friend for a few moments, the pair heard the familiar shuffling of minute feet and Dante spoke once it had ceased.

"I think we have rats."

"Rats? For what?"

"Like fuck I know." Dante shrugged, pacing around the building, reaching for his guns. "We gotta get rid of this though. Do you know how much this will cost me?" Dante asked, looking at the teetered bottom of his couch, the holes in the walls, and the chipped leg of his desk, among other things.

"We're gone a day or so and this is what happens. Shows how much you know how to take care of a place. You know rats are attracted to dirty places, right? Guess what that means? You're a slob." Nero mocked menacingly. Only to piss Dante off.

_This guy finds himself unlucky when I'm pissed and he's around me, but he's the reason why I get so angry. _"To hell with you, kid." Was all that was said in response to Nero's smart-assed comment. Dante didn't bother _arguing_ because he knew it was true; he was a slob. He, however, was not regretful of his lifestyle and therefore chose not to change, because if he could kill demons, he could get rid of rats. Easy.

Not.

"Look, there it is!" Nero pointed out.

"I can see it, you dumb fuck." Dante grunted, before shooting out his gun.

"Dude, you missed." Nero said, nearly dumbfounded that Dante _hadn't_ done the job.

"To hell with you, kid." Dante said again, shooting a second time. And then another. Another. _Why is this thing so fast?_

"Is it like a demonic rat or…?"

"Shut up and help me."

The two pranced around Devil May Cry, throwing pillows and wasting bullets, the shells clicking and echoing as they hit the floor, driving the rats in different directions. At this point the rats, who were underestimated in the sense that they were quite clever and equipped with lightning fast reflexes, were running amuck in Devil May Cry, simultaneously dodging the bullets and pillows being thrown at them. This had driven them in many different places and when Dante found himself shooting one, another had appeared at the corner of his eye. They were, as said before, lightning fast and Nero had no way of truly being able to accurately aim and successfully destroy a rodent. The two—Dante unwilling to admit, and Nero willing to admit—randomly shooting their guns, in hopes of killing a rat or two.

But there were more rats than the two expected.

Finally, they were interrupted, when Trish threw the doors open and stood in the doorway.

"Trish!" Dante called.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked, walking in slowly, her eyes shifting the scene.

"We have a rat problem," Nero grumbled.

"And so you guys tried _shooting _them?"

"What else were we supposed to do?" Nero and Dante whined simultaneously.

Trish merely shook her head and walked back out, leaving Dante and Nero utterly clueless. The two stared at each other scratching their heads and exchanging confused looks. Rats scattered to and fro, beneath, between, and around Dante and Nero's feet, but this time, the two were too worn out and sick of shooting to try and kill the rodents. Moments later, it was then that Trish had entered Devil May Cry for a second time, now with a little board in her hands. Dante and Nero stared at the board in awe, when Trish smirked and set the board down, placing a minute piece of cheese on it. A rat, at one point, scrambled toward the piece of cheese, its pale, bony tale trailing behind it, and reached for the piece of cheese, when then a few wires snapped over it, all together killing it. Dante and Nero watched in amazement.

Trish sighed, a bag of mousetraps in her hand, and shook her head when she noticed their facial expressions. They could've handled this a whole lot easier, the cost of repairing the place could have been a lot less. Trish merely said, "You guys are really idiots."


End file.
